Even the sun goes down

[dolorosa_12]

Today, when I was getting a takeaway coffee from my favourite cafe in Ely, the barista recognised me as a regular when she worked in my favourite cafe back in Cambridge. Like me, she had lived for years in Cambridge before moving to (much cheaper) Ely. I never truly feel like I live somewhere until the baristas know me (and my coffee order) on sight, so I guess this means I'm at home in Ely now?

I've passed the halfway point on the books meme. Today's prompt asks for:

16. The one you'd take with you while you were being ferried on dark underground rivers



There are many books that fit this prompt (indeed, 'stories' in general have always been what have seen me through life's various metaphorical dark underground rivers), but the one that immediately sprang to mind was The Lions of Al-Rassan, by Guy Gavriel Kay. This book lives in the spaces around my heart.

Like all of Kay's novels, it's historical fiction that takes place in a fantasy version of our own world (the names of countries, ethnic/religious groups, and real historical figures have been changed, but these analogues are pretty recognisable if you have a vague understanding of the historical period being fictionalised). This book follows a trio of characters living through (and, intentionally or unintentionally, helping to bring about) the end of Al-Andalus (Islamic Spain). While Kay brings a degree of romanticism and wishful thinking to his portrayal of this region and time period (his Al-Rassan is a beautiful, shining beacon of pluralism, tolerance and culture, and because he wants to present some of his Christian Spain-analogue characters in a positive light, such characters recognise the value of such things and worry that their 'reconquest' of the region is going to change things), he is still able to recognise its flaws ('tolerance' of religious minorities is not the same thing as genuine equal citizenship).

Your enjoyment of this book is going to depend very heavily on whether you can deal with Guy Gavriel Kay's ... Kayishness. His books and characters tend to follow a predictable pattern (ambyr summed it up very well recently: All the women are clever and spirited and beautiful and sexually enthusiastic, all the men are sardonic and handsome, and everyone is Full Of Feelings All The Time). To this I would also add that Kay writes best when he's writing about people whose world is ending or changing irrevocably, and when what they're losing is fragile, and immensely valuable — and shines at its most gloriously beautiful at the moment of its own destruction, like a blazing sunset as it melts into the sparkling ocean. He writes about people who are competent, clever, compassionate and empathetic, and who do their best to live lives of integrity, even as their worlds change into places where such integrity has little value.

The Lions of Al-Rassan speaks to me most profoundly because it confirms and makes heroic my own ideals. It's a story about the destruction of a culture that values art, intellectual endeavour, beautiful architecture and engineering, pluralism and multiculturalism — and, most crucially, this culture is destroyed and swept away by people who are incapable of seeing the importance and value of such things (and indeed who are repelled by them). But it's also about how to go on living (as people who value intellectual endeavour, pluralism and so on) when the rug has been pulled out from underneath you: it's about witnessing the utter destruction of the world you value, and surviving. Although the book was published in 1995, for obvious reasons it resonated a lot with me in 2016, when the Brexit voters, with one vote, took certain things away from me, and upended the world. I still don't think I'll ever get over what they did to me (to us), and having things that I valued immensely taken away by the choice of people who never saw their value became, in a sense, my 'dark underground river' of the soul. I reread The Lions of Al-Rassan soon after that referendum result, and it was a light and a consolation. It's not a happy book, but it's one to which I keep returning, and one that nourishes the spirit.



17. The one that taught you something about yourself

18. A book that went after its premise like an explosion

19. A book that started a pilgrimage

20. A frigid ice bath of a book

21. A book written into your psyche

22. A warm blanket of a book

23. A book that made you bleed

24. A book that asked a question you've never had an answer to

25. A book that answered a question you never asked

26. A book you recommend but cannot love

27. A book you love but cannot recommend

28. A book you adore that people are surprised by

29. A book that led you home

30. A book you detest that people are surprised by

Comments

[shadaras]

Al-Rassan was the first Kay I read, and still I think the one I consider the most beloved. (I have reread the Sarentine Mosaic more, and I think about Tigana a lot, but Al-Rassan is the one that ate into my heart and made me love Kay.) <3

[dolorosa_12]

It's definitely my favourite Kay novel. It wasn't the first one I read — a friend really loved the Sarantine Mosaic duology so that was where I started, and I then made the mistake of reading his Arthurian trilogy (which put me off his books for years) — but it was the first one that I really, really loved.

[iberiandoctor]

As you might suspect, this book lives in the spaces around my heart, too, for many of the reasons you cite. It was formative in so many ways, and while there will be other books (and other characters) that I love equally, and even more, and which are artistically better, this will be the one which I'd carry in the darkness to rage against the dying of the light, as well <3

[dolorosa_12]

You've articulated my own feelings about the book perfectly. As you say, it's a light in darkness.

[corvidology]

I'm the same way about coffee shops, pubs and restaurants.

We've tried to support our favourites as much as possible, getting takeaway etc. but I'm still concerned about how they're all doing.

[dolorosa_12]

We've been the same — we were fairly regular restaurant-goers in pre-pandemic times, so to support our favourite independent places, we implemented a policy of getting takeaway every Saturday night. (We wouldn't have gone to a restaurant once a week, but obviously the cost of a takeaway meal is less than the cost of a sit-down dinner in a restaurant, so we figured we were spending roughly the equivalent.) I really hope that the hospitality industry is able to survive this extended crisis.

[meteordust]

As soon as I saw your post title, I went "!!!" The Lions of Al-Rassan is my very favourite Kay novel, and one of my desert island books.

For a long time, he was one of my favourite authors, and then I hit a couple of books that didn't quite work for me, and I stopped keeping up. I wondered if I was just over Kay doing his Kay thing.

But there are scenes from his work that are imprinted in my mind forever. I recently picked up Lions again to revisit some of them, and ended up rereading most of the book. It was like all the years fell away. It still is just that good. <3

[dolorosa_12]

It's my favourite Kay novel as well — not the first one I read, but the first one that really blew me away and spoke to me on an emotional level.

At his best, Kay is one of my favourite authors, but he's very same-y (as per ambyr's remarks which I quoted above) and sometimes his pet tropes can become tiring.

But there are scenes from his work that are imprinted in my mind forever. I recently picked up Lions again to revisit some of them, and ended up rereading most of the book. It was like all the years fell away. It still is just that good. <3

Absolutely!

[lokifan]

...Man okay I should read it.

[dolorosa_12]

Haha, glad to have helped convince you!